Sep 11 2020, 11:00 PM
Since Hera's visit, Dragon had mulled over a few things. Ideas had bubbled through his mind and away like the gas that rose through the waters of the swamp; a few had flared more brightly, but like the swamp-gas wisps, had been nothing more than ill-conceived and misleading. The ongoing situation with the Masters, with Vargas, with the snow pluming out of a new cave--with dark promises and whispered threats from the direction of Tunnel P... and from Hydra. The Merchant. The Trials. The danger.
Day by day the scarred alligator had gone about his daily routine--which, granted, didn't amount to much--with the whole situation weighing on his mind. He thought he had a solution, now. A safeguard, at the very least. But he'd need to call on the Children of Rot to make it happen.
The offering pile was where they generally met, and so Dragon went there now: sometimes dragging his lame leg over the mud, sometimes swimming, slipping silent, through the darker water channels that led there. And once he'd arrived, he turned, and faced the black woods.
"CHILDREN OF ROT," he boomed--and boy, had it been awhile--"COME TO THE PILE, IF YOU ARE HERE."
Tagging all known members; join if you feel like it-
@Aithaxas @Eve @Ghanyarah (sorry-) @Layla @Merrow (Tal'at) @Nox @Phlegethon @Septiezal @Serek @Sizzle @Zyros